Bio Fooled
by DianeB
Summary: My version of what was going on in Louisa's head during some of the more significant scenes from the S4 finale, "The Wrong Goodbye," plus a little bit about what came just *after* the episode.  I also gave Louisa more credit for recognizing labour.
1. Twinges

Title: Bio-Fooled, Chapter 1 (Twinges)  
><span>Author<span>: DianeB  
><span>Rating<span>: PG-13 (K+)  
><span>Pairing<span>: Martin/Louisa

Summary: This is my version of what was going on inside Louisa's head during some of the more significant scenes from the S4 finale, "The Wrong Goodbye." I've also given Louisa a bit more credit for knowing when her labour started.

A/N: My eternal gratitude lies with **Littleguinea** from fanficdotnet for her fair eye to editing and to checking the "Americanisms." Any remaining errors are mine and mine alone. Written in April, 2011, after I watched this episode on my DVR about a thousand times.

Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment purposes only. I claim no right to anything affiliated with _Doc Martin_.

* * *

><p>Louisa felt the first unfamiliar twinge of discomfort right about the time she caught the children super-gluing themselves to one another. The children provided sufficient enough distraction that by the time she had a moment to think about what she'd felt, it was long gone.<p>

The arrival of Martin Ellingham gave her an entirely different sort of twinge, made worse by his announcement that he'd brought something for her, something that turned out _not_ to be a declaration that he was staying in Portwenn, or even a gift for the nursery, but an envelope containing a spreadsheet of projected expenditures and a handful of post-dated cheques for the care and feeding of the baby, delivered as if he were arranging for kennel services.

It was all Louisa could do to accept the damned envelope with some modicum of pride, torn between wanting to slap him and wanting to burst into tears. It was beyond understanding how he could be so businesslike, so callous, even as he stood staring at her huge belly, at _his own child_.

The ringing of the school bell startled Louisa, but she was glad of it, because it gave her the excuse she needed to escape him. No amount of talking about bonding or special moments with a new baby would do any good, anyway, and when he began stammering that he was simply expressing his concern, it was all she could do to swallow past the ache in her throat, knowing that crying in front of him would do nothing but raise her blood pressure and endanger the baby. So instead she simply wished him luck, suffered through more of his unwelcome attempts to placate her, and walked away, feeling his eyes on her as she re-entered the school. Louisa knew she would need a private moment in the toilet to spill her tears before she could continue with her day. She could blame it on her fluctuating hormones, but she knew it was more than that. A great deal more.

As the school day continued on to its end, Louisa felt the unfamiliar twinge one more time, but she paid it no mind, knowing she was headed to the hospital in Truro for a check-up that very afternoon and could get it sorted then.

Never once did it occur to Louisa just what that "twinge" might be signaling.

**oOo oOo oOo**

In the taxi on the way to the hospital, ignoring a marginally more intense twinge, Louisa argued with herself about whether or not she should accept Martin's back-handed support of the baby. She'd braved a look at the cheques and was unsurprised to find them substantial. Of course she could use the money, and she knew Martin knew that, but bile rose in the back of her throat at the idea of taking his money because she needed it, like she was some sort of charity case. Damn the man, anyway, she thought, absently rubbing her belly. Why couldn't he just stay in Portwenn and be part of the baby's life, part of _her_ life?

The ringing of her mobile brought her back to the moment. "Hello?" She could tell it was Martin, and after she'd confirmed she was in a Tommy's Taxi, she thought she heard a note of panic in his voice. Unfortunately, the phone's signal went dead after that, so she was unable to hear anything more of what he'd been trying to say. A moment later the phone rang again, and this time she was able to give Martin an idea of her exact location before the signal died again.

Tommy, meanwhile, was beginning to act strangely, and Louisa allowed a bit of her own panic, wondering if perhaps Martin had been trying to tell her something about Tommy himself. When Tommy started talking about it snowing and putting on the taxi's windscreen wipers, she knew she hadn't been imagining the panic in Martin's voice.

In the next instant, Tommy was unconscious behind the wheel, and Louisa's panic became full-blown. Knowing she had no choice if she wanted to survive, she unbuckled her seat belt and came forward, leaning over Tommy and grabbing the wheel, trying to steer the now-swerving vehicle. There was no way she could reach the brake, so the most she could hope for was to keep the car from smashing into anything before she could at least reach an uphill slope that would slow it down.

Hanging there over the front seat, she felt the twinge again, but this time the baby moved, and the twinge became a spasm like nothing she had ever felt before. Dividing her attention between this pain and the car proved to be too much, and as Louisa felt the car leave the road, she had a vision of Martin standing under a huge umbrella in the pouring rain, his arms wrapped tightly around her and the baby, keeping them safe, warm, and dry.

As the boulder loomed ahead, it took all of Louisa's will to keep herself from tensing up, knowing she'd be injured less if she kept her muscles from tightening. Again a vision of Martin filled her head, and as her reality spiraled down to a sudden, jolting halt, Louisa relaxed completely and allowed her body to be jostled around before coming to rest against the back seat.

Aside from a couple of squawking birds and the hissing engine, the silence that came after was total. _I'm alive_ was the first coherent thought Louisa had. After that, her bladder gave warning. Very carefully, she extracted herself from the car, checking for bodily damage as she went. Once fully out of the car, she inspected herself. Aside from a few bumps and bruises, she was unhurt – and not without awe at the miracle of it.

Ignoring for the moment her bladder's siren call, Louisa opened the front door and tried to rouse Tommy. He groaned a few times, but was otherwise un-rousable. Stepping back from the car and shielding her eyes, she scanned the horizon for any sign of humanity, but quickly realized it was a lost cause. They were literally out in the middle of nowhere, without a phone signal or a working vehicle. An up the duff woman and an unconscious taxi driver.

"Okay," she said aloud to no one, "this is not funny," and then proceeded to laugh anyway, causing her bladder to start a final countdown.

Sighing heavily and picking her way carefully to the front of the car, Louisa hiked her dress above her belly, pushed her knickers down as far as she could, squatted, and finally emptied her aching bladder. To her own ears, in all that quiet, she sounded exactly like a racehorse.

It was then that she heard Martin's voice shouting her name, and for a moment thought she was imagining it again, because he sounded so panic-stricken, so unlike his usual controlled self, that it couldn't possibly have been him.

But it _was_ him.

Quickly realizing her state of dishabille and the fact that he couldn't see her, she scrambled to put herself right before making her appearance.

His panic was genuine, she could hear it in his voice as he asked what she'd been doing, and there was nothing Louisa could do but tell him the truth. "I needed to wee," which was a mighty understatement considering the size of the puddle in front of the car.

But Martin remained unconvinced that she was unhurt. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she said, walking with him back to the driver's side of the car. "I'm a bit shaken, but it's Tommy. He's breathing, but I can't wake him up."

"Are you in any pain or discomfort at all?" It was as if he hadn't heard what she'd said about Tommy. But since she hadn't felt the twinge-spasm in a while, she didn't have to answer his question with a lie.

"No," she said firmly, trying to get him to tend to Tommy. "I think Tommy's more urgent than me."

"Yes, yes, yes," he said impatiently, "but you're sure you're all right?"

What was this? Had she dropped into an alternate universe? One in which Martin Ellingham was suddenly, honestly concerned for her welfare and not just spouting words at her? When a man lay unconscious, clearly very ill? If she lived to be a hundred, she would never figure him out! "Yes," she repeated, as another spasm wrapped itself around her midsection, "I told you. Yes."

Well, no, but it wasn't like the pain was coming with any regularity or anything.

End Chapter 1


	2. One Hundred Proof

Title: Bio-Fooled, Chapter 2 (One Hundred Proof)  
><span>Author<span>: DianeB  
><span>Rating<span>: PG-13 (K+)  
><span>Pairing<span>: Martin/Louisa

See Chapter 1 for Summary, Author's Notes, and Disclaimer.

* * *

><p>The next hour was spent getting Tommy to the nearest pub, four miles down the road. Louisa learned his illness was caused by his inhaling methanol fumes from the petrol he was making out of the chip fat sold to him by Bert Large, and that Tommy's wife, Tasha, was suffering the same ailment. Typical Bert Large shenanigans to make a quid without thinking about consequences.<p>

Martin, however, wouldn't let her help haul Tommy, so most of the hour was spent either with Louisa chastising Martin for dropping the poor man so many times or Martin questioning her condition every other second. It was a wonder with all their sniping that Martin didn't drive _his_ car into a boulder, but they managed to make it to the pub unscathed.

By the time Martin was successfully treating Tommy (with 100-proof vodka, no less), Louisa knew without doubt she was in labour and was hoping the ambulance would arrive soon. Arguing with Martin was doing her no good, but at least it kept her from thinking about what her body was up to. She really didn't want to have her baby in a pub.

Her baby, however, had other plans. She'd just finished snapping at Martin about people learning from their mistakes when the next twinge she felt was not a twinge, or even a spasm, but a bona fide, fully-fledged contraction, providing a magnificent pain that took her breath away. "I need a seat," she managed to squeeze out of lungs suddenly void of air, one hand pressing into her lower back, the other reaching for a nearby chair.

She'd read all the books. She'd watched all the DVD's – even the one the midwife had given her about giving birth under water. And none of them, _none_ of them, ever said a word about how truly excruciating the pain could be. As if that weren't enough, accompanying this pain was an overwhelming urge to push, but Louisa thought it was too soon for that. It took another effort of will to blow instead – something she'd seen in one of the videos – and discovered that blowing _did_ bring some relief.

It did not help when Martin, in panic mode but trying to help, pulled the chair right out from under her, resulting in her thudding heavily to the floor. Her first response was to continue pretending she wasn't in labour. "I'm fine, I'm fine." But as another contraction seized her, she realized there was no longer any sense in pretending. "But, no, I'm not."

Martin clearly didn't understand. "What's that?" He asked, helping her with exaggerated care into the chair. "Did you hurt your back?"

"No, no. I think the contractions are starting," she hissed through clenched teeth, knowing full well there was nothing "are starting" about it.

Martin had the gall to ask if she was sure, which did nothing to ease her pain or her indignation. "Of course I'm sure!" In fact, the contractions seemed to be coming with alarming speed now, and it scared her, because she was sure that labour was supposed to last hours, _not_ minutes.

Martin, _his_ panic making him more insufferable than ever, told _her_ not to panic, and if she'd been in a better frame of mind, she would've laughed at him. Instead, she let her pain fuel her anger, raised her voice and snapped, "I'm not!"

But by this time, Martin was way beyond anything remotely resembling logical thought. "Okay," he shouted. "Just stay calm!"

"Don't shout at me to stay calm!" She knew his shouting was unintentional, but all it did was increase both her pain and her anxiety level. Another contraction slammed into her. "Ohh…ow…ow!"

The ambulance arrived at that moment, thank God, and Louisa entertained a thought that she might actually make it to the hospital in time. Martin, meanwhile, was totally beyond the pale with regard to his behaviour, far outside his comfort zone, roaring at the paramedics about proper supplies and trying desperately to take control of a situation that was wildly _out_ of his control.

Louisa endured it for as long as she could before his yelling, coupled with her pain, finally became too much for her. In no uncertain terms, and at as high a volume as she could muster, she ordered him out of the pub. "Right. Enough! Martin, I want you to wait outside."

This stopped him cold. "What?" She gave him credit for at least hearing her.

Another contraction rendered her unable to voice anything but a loud moan, but she ground her teeth against the pain, determined to make sure he understood exactly what she meant. "I mean it, really. I really do. Please." It didn't come out as forcefully as she'd wanted and the "please" didn't help, but it served well enough for Martin to get the message. After stumbling over the words for a moment, he told her he'd be right outside.

Which was fine with her because she had other things to worry about besides the decidedly disagreeable Doctor Martin Ellingham.

End Chapter 2


	3. Baby Boy Glasson

Title: Bio-Fooled, Chapter 3 (Baby Boy Glasson)  
><span>Author<span>: DianeB  
><span>Rating<span>: PG-13 (K+)  
><span>Pairing<span>: Martin/Louisa

See Chapter 1 for Summary, Author's Notes, and Disclaimer.

* * *

><p>For the most part, Martin stayed outside as ordered, but that didn't stop him from bellowing instructions through the closed door, as if she didn't know what to do, or didn't have an experienced medical professional attending her. Louisa had never been so thankful for the woman's calm demeanor and confidence in what she was doing.<p>

"Slowly now, just push when I say."

Clear instructions and a comforting voice gave Louisa time to consider Martin. "Do you think I did the wrong thing?"

The paramedic kept focused on Louisa's nether regions. "Push!"

Louisa obediently pushed, grateful for the opportunity to do what she'd been wanting to do all along, but she continued her train of thought. "I mean, it _is_ his baby, after all." The last word came out more like a wail than a word.

"You can't worry about that now. There's more pressing matters. This baby's coming fast! Push!"

Coming fast? _No kidding_, Louisa thought, and then she realised what she'd been trying to say. "I've changed my mind!"

The paramedic misunderstood, thinking she was talking about the baby. "It's too late for that now. This baby is coming whether you want it to or not."

"No," she said, struggling to be understood, "I mean about _him_. Let him in…ohhh!"

At that exact moment, as if he had heard her – though he certainly could not have – Martin burst through the door, talking as he came. "Look, I know you don't want me in here, but I have to tell you, I was wrong."

His words were like a balm to Louisa's aching body and soul. She waved him to her. "Please. Come here."

He rushed to her, kneeling by her side and wrapping her hands in his. "I was wrong. About you, about leaving, about everything. When I saw that taxi, I feared the worst."

Louisa couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had a vague notion of being in an alternate universe again, but the feel of him, his warmth and strength, told her this was not a dream or some other universe, but real. Martin was by her side, holding her, confessing his fear, his regret, and his realisation that'd he'd been wrong about leaving.

Moaning, but smiling through the pain, Louisa brought herself forward as much as she could. Martin met her halfway, and when their lips came together, it was almost as if she could hear a distant chorus of "Awww…"

Unfortunately, the baby's demand for birth overtook any further amorous endeavors, and Louisa broke the kiss with a shriek that she feared would leave Martin's ears ringing for a week. The pain was horrendous, and though the paramedic was making cheerful, positive noises, it didn't feel to Louisa like anything more than her entire insides were trying to exit through her birth canal.

The paramedic encouraged Louisa to give her one more big push, which Louisa did because she had no choice, and finally the paramedic exclaimed, "Congratulations, it's a boy!" and Louisa heard the first robust squalls of her newborn son. In that instant, all the pressure subsided, most all of the pain was gone, and Louisa realised her moment had arrived: she had become somebody's mum.

"Boy, it's a boy!" Louisa was inordinately glad she hadn't learned the sex of the baby before its birth, because this surprise was like no other she had ever experienced. She could barely contain her joy as the paramedic gently placed the naked, bloody infant on the blanket draped across Louisa's chest. "Oh, yes…oh…" Grinning, she tucked the blanket around her son, studying every nook and cranny, every wrinkle and fingernail. He was perfect. A tiny little perfect human being. Her son, her sweet, precious, wonderful new baby boy...

Martin must've made some kind of noise, or the paramedic had, because suddenly Louisa remembered Martin was there. She turned her head toward him. "Martin?"

Unbeknownst to her, Martin had been watching every moment of the birth, but clearly much of what he saw wasn't sitting well with his haemophobia. He gagged once in the usual fashion and quickly excused himself, leaving Louisa to explain to the paramedic that Martin had "a little problem with blood." The woman lifted an eyebrow but didn't say anything, and Louisa figured it was likely that very little could surprise her anymore.

The barman, meanwhile, popped the cork on a bottle of champagne, laughing when the liquid cascaded out over the top of the bottle. It wasn't much longer before Martin returned to Louisa's side, clearing his throat and apologising. Louisa braved a question. "Do you want to hold him?"

Martin's discomfort was palpable. "Um, no. Uh…"

"No," she said, deliberately addressing the baby, "of course not."

Martin continued to trip over what he wanted to say. "Um, I mean, he's a baby. I might drop him or do something wrong with him. I don't think I'm very good with babies."

Filled as she was with so much delight over this tiny person in her arms, _her beautiful little boy_, it was easy for Louisa to give Martin a break, knowing how profoundly difficult it had been for him to admit this weakness. "You could learn?" She allowed a note of hopefulness to slip into her voice.

Once more Martin admitted something he never would have a mere two hours earlier. "Yes, I could," he said, and astounded Louisa by reaching out and taking the baby.

Louisa watched as baby and blanket pretty much disappeared in Martin's big hands and then smiled to herself, amused at the way Martin didn't so much as _hold_ the baby as let him dangle there between his hands. But the look on Martin's face almost broke Louisa's heart.

He was smiling, actually smiling, and though it looked as though the muscles in his face were strangers to the effort, his smile was, indeed, authentic. It might have even lasted a bit longer if the baby hadn't started objecting to the unorthodox way he was being held. Martin quickly handed him back, and the smile disappeared as if it had never been.

Louisa accepted her son, folding him into her arms as if she'd been doing it all her life and whispered, "Oh, don't worry. You'll get used to him. Eventually." She looked back at Martin. "Isn't he beautiful?"

She watched Martin study the bald little head. "Head's a bit misshapen," he said.

Brilliant, Louisa thought. Whatever spark of pleasure Martin had felt while holding his son was clearly gone. She cautioned him not to continue, but it fell on deaf ears. _Big_ deaf ears.

"It's the pressure in the birth canal. Squeezes the plates of the skull together, so they can pass through. Should rectify itself in six weeks or so. If not, he might need a small procedure…"

It took to this point for Louisa's glare to penetrate his medical prattling, but he finally trailed off with a puzzled look. "What?" He asked as if he honestly had no idea why she would be staring at him that way – which of course he had not.

Her son would have _quite a bit_ to get used to, Louisa thought with some dismay, continuing to glare at Martin. The baby took his cue from his mum and added a lusty howl, both of which served as ample warning to Martin without her having to actually _say_ "Martin, shut up!"

End Chapter 3


	4. If the Heart Be True

Title: Bio-Fooled, Chapter 4 (If the Heart Be True)  
><span>Author<span>: DianeB  
><span>Rating<span>: PG-13 (K+)  
><span>Pairing<span>: Martin/Louisa

Special Chapter 4 Summary: This chapter outlines my version of what happened immediately after "The Wrong Goodbye" ended, and so marks my first (and possibly my last) foray into anything remotely like between-series' speculative fiction about the new little family.

See Chapter 1 for Summary, Author's Notes, and Disclaimer, though I must again take a moment to proclaim my undying, everlasting, and otherwise enduring gratitude to **Littleguinea** for her help with editing and weeding out those pesky "Americanisms."

* * *

><p>Martin again left the pub while Sarah, the paramedic whose name they'd finally learned, took care of the rest of the business of birth and cleaned Louisa up. The barman, who turned out not to be an "officious little oaf" but a kind and jolly man named Walker, had provided a basin of warm soapy water and pretty much every clean bar towel he had, so Louisa's wash-up was fairly thorough. The sofa, however, would never be the same.<p>

"I know it's too soon to get you on your feet," Sarah said, "but how about we try to get you to the ambulance? We'll never get a stretcher in here, but we need to get you and the baby to hospital as soon as we can. I mean, everything looks good, but you both really need to be properly checked out."

Louisa was able to bring her legs over the edge of the sofa and plant her feet on the floor without much trouble. Standing and walking proved to be more of a challenge, as she was sore all over and weak as a kitten, but the sound of her son gurgling away over her shoulder eased all the discomfort. With Sarah's help, she made it to the ambulance without mishap.

Outside, Louisa heard Martin making grumbling noises about his car, clearly torn between wanting to drive his own car and wanting to ride with her in the ambulance. Louisa knew where _she_ wanted him, but it wasn't until the paramedic spoke up that the decision was made.

"Doctor Ellingham," Sarah said, addressing him formally, "to be honest, I wasn't sure about you when I first got here, but I saw what you did for, uh, for Tommy and he's stable now, so I'm certain you can handle anything that might come up on the way to the hospital."

Martin cast her a puzzled look but didn't say anything, so Sarah went on. "What I'm saying is, I can see you want to ride with Louisa, so why don't you let me take your car to the hospital?"

Martin clearly hadn't been expecting this and he reacted accordingly. "No, uh, no, I don't—"

But Sarah, looking as if she'd known he'd refuse, said with a smile, "I drive an ambulance for a living, doctor, and Truro's not that far away. I'm sure I can get your car to the hospital in one piece. It may be bending the rules a bit, but I think it'll be all right in this case."

Standing there watching this interaction, Louisa could almost see the gears turning in Martin's head as he processed Sarah's offer, but it took another minute before he finally acquiesced. "Yes. Right," he said, and tossed his keys to the paramedic. Louisa didn't bother to hide her pleasure over the fact that Martin chose to accompany her, but she knew better than to risk Martin's changing his mind if she went on too much about it.

Sarah spent a moment getting Louisa and the baby settled in the ambulance and checking in with her partner at the wheel before heading off in Martin's car with the promise to meet them at the hospital's emergency entrance. After a brief glance at his departing car, Martin climbed into the ambulance and shut the door firmly behind him. A minute later, the vehicle began to move.

It was close quarters inside, what with Tommy in there, too. She and Martin were positioned similar to the way they had been when they rode with Peter Cronk, except that Louisa was the one on the stretcher, propped up with the baby in her arms, and Martin was on a squat metal stool by her side. Tommy was squeezed in on the opposite side, snoring softly, clearly dead to the world. The vodka had saved his life but it had also put him right out. Louisa was secretly relieved, as it gave her and Martin more private time, time she knew they would have little of once word got out about the birth and the fact that Martin wasn't going to London.

Little did she know, of course, that thanks to Martin's inability to work his mobile, the whole village already knew way more than any village had a right to. She would learn later that the mobile's battery died soon after they'd entered the ambulance. She would also learn that she _had_ heard a distant chorus of "Awww…" when she and Martin kissed in the pub.

"Martin?"

"Yes, Louisa?" He reached out and stroked her arm, a gesture of intimacy he had not expressed since the night they'd created the baby. This had an immediate physical affect on her; she could feel moisture soaking through the front of her dress, knowing it was simply a hormonal response prompted by his touch and the fact that she had a newborn in her arms. She was not unhappy with her body's reaction, but was thankful Walker had donated all his bar towels, knowing the sight of her lactating would probably upset Martin. There would be plenty of time for him to become accustomed to that – and to everything else that caring for an infant would require.

"This is probably the only time we're going to have alone for a while."

"Right," he said, clearing his throat.

She freed one arm and stretched it out to him. He took her hand immediately and she asked the first question that came to her. "What shall we call him?"

He squeezed her hand and looked surprised, as if that was not what he was expecting her to say. "I-I hadn't thought about…well, no, that's not true…I _have_ thought about it…er, I—"

"Martin? What are you trying to say? Have you thought of a name?"

"No, uh, yes, but it's one I'd rather we _not_ use."

And suddenly she knew. "Christopher."

He cleared his throat again. "Yes."

Louisa considered it and decided she couldn't disagree. Certainly Christopher was a good, solid name. So, in fact, was Terrance, but she wouldn't want her son named after her father any more than Martin wanted him named after his. "Not Christopher, then. You know," she said, "I'm not sure why I asked, except it was the first thing that popped into my head. We don't have to decide right now, do we? We can wait a while, pick out the perfect name. Together."

He nodded, and in the confined space, she could almost taste his relief.

The baby began to squirm and cry again, and Louisa reclaimed her hand to shift her son to the other arm, smoothing a finger over his velvet cheek, smiling and cooing at him, patting his diminutive bottom, and then – as if she'd done it a hundred times before – placing the tip of her little finger into his mouth so he could suckle. More nutritionally-sound suckling would have to come when they got to the hospital, but for now, this satisfied him and he settled, making contented little mewling sounds.

She'd not realised that Martin had been intensely following her ministrations, but when she turned her attention back to him, she saw that his eyes were brimming and the tips of his ears were bright red, something she had never seen before. The effect was alarming. "Martin, what's wrong?" She could only stare as tears spilled freely down his face.

When he finally spoke, his voice was choked with emotion. "Louisa, you look so beautiful with him."

It was so unlike him to speak this way that she had no idea how to respond.

It turned out no words were necessary. He shifted as close as he could on the stool, taking her and the baby into his arms as much as he could, and at once Louisa recalled her vision in the doomed taxi: Martin under an umbrella in the rain, his arms wrapped protectively around her and the baby.

Essentially, this _was_ that vision.

Louisa sighed and relaxed against Martin's sturdy shoulder. She wasn't fool enough to think their troubles were over – in fact, she knew some of them were just starting – but for now, for right now, with Martin's arms around her and the baby securely between them, trouble looked very far away indeed.

The Very End

**oOo oOo oOo**

_And things can never go badly wrong  
><em>_If the heart be true and the love be strong.  
><em>_For the mist, if it comes, and the weeping rain  
><em>_Will be changed by the love into sunshine again._

- From the poem "Sweet Peril," by George MacDonald


End file.
